


The Strange Occurance Involving Her Notebook

by novaisnotinsane



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: High School! AU, Logan Sanders - Freeform, My OCs, OCs - Freeform, Other, Patton Sanders (mentioned) - Freeform, Roman Sanders (mentioned) - Freeform, Valerie is my child and needs to be protected, Virgil Sanders - Freeform, asofterfan on tumblr wrote the au i was just inspired, notebooks, punk! AU, why did i misspell notebook as nootebook 37 times please help me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 21:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novaisnotinsane/pseuds/novaisnotinsane
Summary: so asofterfan over on tumblr is incredibly talented and wrote the Sides as punks and i loved it so here we are.go show them some love, and i hope you enjoy!





	The Strange Occurance Involving Her Notebook

**Author's Note:**

> TW for referenced/implied death

She was certainly a quiet girl, exactly what one would expect of a new student who had just transferred mid-year during senior year. She hardly raised her hand in class, didn’t talk to anyone outside of class, and when answering a question, replied in only one or two words- if she didn’t grunt a response instead. No-one knew if she had any friends, or if she even wanted any; all her free time was spent scribbling furiously in a notebook crammed full of post-its and loose papers, its cover decorated in a multitude of hand-drawn stickers.  
It was the notebook that drew Logan’s attention, he swore. It was not her ears, which were pierced in a several places, and at least one of which would always sport a working clock earring. It was her flamboyant, if not odd, outfits Roman would not shut up about even if he tried. It was not her extravagantly styled hair, dyed in a navy to blue ombré that rivaled even Patton’s. It was the mysterious splotch of ink on the back of her left wrist Virgil had recognized to be a tattoo but had never gotten close enough to see.  
It was the notebook, which he found in an art classroom after school when going to see if Virgil wanted to go to the nearby deli before heading over to Remy’s shop. He had hardly noticed it, hidden as it was under a pile of papers in the corner of the room. Virgil, sitting on the opposite side, intently focusing on a graphic design before him, hadn’t noticed it. “Hey, Virgil, you recognize this?” Logan asked, holding up the object in question. His best friend glanced up, shook his head, and went back to inking in his drawing.  
He shouldn’t snoop, he knew; it was illogical and wouldn’t get him anywhere. But, perhaps the owner had inscribed their name on the inside, on the perchance they lost it. Logan decided he would only look at the first page to see if he could find a name. It wouldn’t be snooping, then.  
He flipped open the cover to find a beautiful and detailed illustration of a sleeping girl, floating among cosmos. It took Logan’s breath away, before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. His eyes flickered over to the next page, where a garden of flowers framed a name inscribed in inky cursive: Valerie McGillycuddy. Logan immediately recognized the name of the Irish transfer student who was in several of his classes.  
He would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t debating on whether to flip to the next page or not.  
Against his better judgement, he turned the page to be met with a polaroid of a very… different Valerie. Her hair was completely black, no dyed hair in sight, and was braided into pigtails. She wore no make-up and a simple T-shirt and jeans, revealing a tattoo on her right forearm of two pine trees. She was smiling in the picture, something Logan had never seen her do. Two people had their arms hooked around her neck. Arrows pointing to them identified the redhead on the left as “Charley” and the gothic one on the right as “Nora”. A string of numbers below placed the picture’s date on July 29th, 2017. Last year, then.  
A thought struck Logan. “How does one alter themselves so drastically in such a short period of time?” he mused aloud.  
“Simple,” he heard behind him. Logan yelped, spooked, and turned to find Virgil behind him, peering over his shoulder at the notebook. His purple bangs fell carelessly over his eyes, but he didn’t brush them away. “They go through a tragic or traumatic experience. I mean, look at us,” Virgil said cynically. “Anyway, why are you looking through someone else’s notebook? Don’t let Patton know, or you’re in for a lecture.” Logan cracked a smile.  
“I thought perhaps the owner had written their name on the inside, and it turns my hypothesis was correct,” he said, flipping the page back to show Valerie’s name. Virgil hummed, shoving his hands in his pockets. Logan’s mind once again began to debate, this time on whether it would be ethical to take a quick peek through Valerie’s notebook. Currently, curiosity was killing the cat. If Logan hadn’t been intrigued by this mysterious girl before, he was now wholly consumed with curiosity. But he shouldn’t snoop. This was Valerie’s notebook, likely a place of the emotional outbursts Logan was so foreign to.  
A knock on the door drew his attention. In the doorway stood Valerie in all her Irish glory, decked out in full steampunk mode. A pair of shiny goggles hung around her neck and glittered in the sunlight, slightly blinding Logan and Virgil. Logan froze like a deer in headlights, feeling his face flush. Valerie coughed gently before she spoke.  
“Is that my journal?” she asked quietly, her words slightly slurred by her accent.  
Logan swore he didn’t gulp in fear of what the Irishwoman might do to him. “…Yes?” he said, more of a question than an answer.  
To his surprise, Valerie quirked a corner of her lips up and breathed out a laugh. “Well, at least you’re the one who picked it up.” Valerie strode into the room, her heels clicking on the floor. She paused to glance at Virgil’s drawing, to which she mumbled something Logan guessed was a compliment. She kept walking until she was in front of Logan, and though she met the edge of his chin despite wearing heels, she was no less threatening.  
“You can look through, if you want,” she said sweetly. Logan did a double take, not sure he had heard her right. “I meant for someone to pick it up and look through it. Let them learn a little about me.” Logan stared at her, dumbfounded.  
“Why exactly would you perform such a task?” he asked. Valerie laughed, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders.  
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not good at making friends,” she replied, her eyes falling to the floor sadly in spite of the grin on her face. “My friend Nora had the idea of leaving one of my completed notebook behind in a class and seeing who’d pick it up,” Valerie explained, leaning casually on the table behind her. From the corner of his eyes, Logan saw Virgil move from behind him.  
“So what happened to you to make you change?” he asked unabashedly. Valerie blinked, then blinked again. Then it apparently clicked in her mind.  
“Oh. Oh! You saw the picture!” she exclaimed, understanding flashing across her face. She chuckled a little and rapidly spit out, “Just regrets, I guess. Letting life pass me by, letting it smack my arse with the back of a wooden spoon.” Logan noticed the tightness in her smile and the uncommon darkness in her eyes.  
“Pardon, but you seem to have an emotional connection to your words. I theorize there is a further history you are not willing to divulge in. Am I correct?” Logan stated in a monotone voice, regressing to more “robotic” state at the presence of emotions. Valerie blinked again.  
“Translation,” Virgil added, “you’re hiding something, aren’t you?”  
Valerie focused on the floor. “I guess you didn’t read that far.” Carefully, she extracted her notebook and flipped further into the notebook, dozens of little doodles and blobs of writing passing by Logan’s eyes. She turned to a page full of neat handwriting, written in swirling purple ink. Valerie shoved the notebook back into Logan and Virgil’s hands, not looking at them. “It’s a lot easier to let someone read your life than to explain it,” she whispered, sitting down, adjusting her full-length skirt.  
Logan’s eyes fell to the paper, which he could see was tear-stained in a couple places. Scanning over it quickly, Logan read through what seemed to be a letter- a heartbroken letter for the dead. Reading through it, Logan learned a couple things about Valerie that made his heart twist in ways he did not enjoy. He didn’t do “feelings” beside passion for learning and for his friends, yet, here he was, feeling things as he read Valerie’s words. He finished reading and looked up to see Valerie watching them, playing with the golden time turner on her neck, spinning it nervously.  
“I apologize. I am not one for many human emotions, although it seem this situation calls for such,” Logan said breathlessly. Valerie smiled sadly, remaining silent.  
“I’ve condolences enough, it’s alright,” she said, waving it off. “So… there you have it.” The room fell to an awkward standstill; Virgil shuffled his feet as he intertwined one hand with Logan’s.  
Without so much as a farewell, she left, true to the name of an Irish Goodbye. Logan and Virgil were left standing in the middle of the art room, not really sure what just occurred. Deciding not to dwell too much on the interaction, Logan began collecting his items, and Virgil followed suit. They were halfway to Remy’s when he realized he’d never given back the notebook.

The following day Logan found Valerie sitting in the corner of the Commons Area, scrolling through her phone while scribbling in a different notebook, likely one she was still working through. He sat down beside her. Valerie, from the corner of his peripheral vision, paused her writing.  
“Would you indulge me in what you’re writing?” he asked. Valerie’s whole face lit up.  
“Of course! I’m writing down note about the Mayan civilization for my debate in history class last period. Did you know how skilled they were in mathematics and astronomy? I mean the Temple of the Jaguar-”  
“-had a total of 365 steps on its four sides, and during the summer and winter equinoxes-”  
“the sun cast a shadow serpent on the northern staircase!” The two stared at each other before bursting into laughter, drawing attention from several kids at nearby tables, who deciding they weren’t worth their gazes. “A fellow nerd, how rare,” Valerie joked.  
“You said you weren’t good at making friends,” Logan said. “But I believe that is a falsehood. You’re making one right now, aren’t you?” Valerie laughed, shaking her head.  
“Oh, isn’t that a sight! A nerd like me, having friends?” she joked, wiping tears from her ears.  
“Well, I have friends,” Logan said, pretending to be offended.  
“Eh, you’re a statistical anomaly.”  
“Unless your evil twin took that polaroid, so are you,” Logan stated, holding out his hand. “Statistical anomalies?” he asked, watching Valerie’s shoulder tense slightly before deflating as she took he hand, shaking it.  
“Statistical anomalies.” As Logan glanced at her hand, he finally saw the tattoo that had eluded him thus far. It read, “Infinity is infinitesimal, actually,” which almost made Logan choke on his laughter. Instead, he tried handing Valerie back her notebook.  
“Keep it,” she said, smiling genuinely, “for one day, it will lead you to Wonderland.” And with that, she walked away, leaving Logan staring at the notebook, wondering what its pages held in store for him.


End file.
